


Stepping Stones

by orphan_account



Category: Le città invisibili | Invisible Cities - Italo Calvino
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Building a city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musicforwolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforwolves/gifts).



There is a city of shadowy buildings that rise in steeples and towers unrivaled by any other urban metropolis. It has no bridges, only small points of light that indicate safe passage over the river that surrounds its borders, for there are only three entrances, made up of hefty stepping stones. For years they've said that inevitably the stones will finally sink, that the city will be cut off from all other human connection. So far, they've been wrong though.

In order to cross, a traveler must produce from his person its official city-state stamp confirming rite of passage, and wait until such time as the correct beams of light hit the stepping stones across the river to light the way.

The three paths are illuminated at three times of day: pink dawn, blue dusk, and silver starlight. Those that are colorblind have a harder time of it, having only the nighttime by which to enter. At these various times, two of the paths remained darkened while one is lit. It is by that one path one might enter the city and discover its mysteries.

Upon passing through the city gates in the nighttime, it is found that the sleeping two-thirds of the dawn and dusk districts have a vast cover. Upon further inspection, it is found to be a patchwork of tarps, sheets, blankets, plastic sheeting. Each resident is responsible for covering their section of open sky, and in this way, an opaque layer able to catch light is formed each night, a legal film required of each citizen lest they be exiled to the unkind further reaches beyond the river of lit stepping stones.

In the starlight time, gargantuan spotlights as such have never been seen outside the city's borders are lit, and cast shadows onto the great patchwork quilt. Outlines are cast: grand buildings rise up, the regal lace of a shadow cathedral blooms, the steeple of a humble church pushes up jauntily, and the jagged edges of aged apartment buildings make uneven edges. Even the smallest details are included -- the uneven lines of laundry hanging, outlining human bodies.

The lights remain lit over the course of the night, at which time the city's night guard stands watch, and revelers stand in the shadow streets, making gestures with their hands of drinking, the stumble of unsteady feet, the act of couples leaning obscenely in alleys, projections of life that routinely happen only in the dark.

An entire city's events are acted out in these spotlights, projected on the patchwork quilt of the other two districts, until slowly the sun begins to arc into morning.

The starlight dwellers switch off their lights and pull back their own monstrous shade to cover their part of the city for shadow, shut their eyelids, and sleep until the next night.

The denizens of morning are quick and raw, much like the sky at dawn, and the shadows have just only begun to grow. Due to this fact, they move much faster than any other population known to humanity. The streets are lively with activity; the morning calls for meat and coffee, the rush to dress and wash and prepare for shadows.

It begins with a diffused pink light; this is the time for preparation. Then, as the sun first rises over the hills beyond the river, everyone turns their backs and says a prayer. The glare off the river is almost blinding, and is it at this time that the stepping stone path is almost as invisible during the waking hours of the morning dwellers as during the night. But there is a certain time, just as the shadows begin to form, that the river seems to swallow any light that hits its surface, and may be crossed.

The morning prayer is essential to survival for this metropolis, because it is uttered at the exact time that the dark edges of shadows begin to flood outward from every thing. It is not comprised of words, but of sounds; everyone exhales at the same time, believing the sun can only be pulled by the movement of human breath.

At this time, the sun begins to list and the shadows bloom. Noontime is another prayer, at which time, after preparing for the day, everyone -- men, women, children, even the animals -- don hats made from the most sumptuous materials and built into a truly artful sculpture that they carry on top of their heads.

The shapes of the hats in shadow over the starlight and dusk districts begin to lengthen and grow, until over the course of a short time, the massive outlines of more buildings, cathedrals, courthouses and small cottages are cast over the covers of the other two-thirds of the city. The buildings move and fall though, just as the starlight revelers, until dusk settles.

The morning workers retire and pull their cover over the roofs of their shadow houses, and then the dusk comes out.

The dusk portion of the city are known for their colors. Instead of shaped hats or spotlights filled with shadow, they use colored and cut stones to refract the darks and lights that light the sky at the latter time of day.

In summer, when the light lasts the longest, the workers in this district each possess a stone they are given from birth. They stand in different formations and hold their stones high in the air, fingers and hands clustered very close to one another, and let the light burst from the maze it traverses through each stone.

There are tiny glints of light cast onto the starlight and morning districts, and then the most festive portion of the evening begins.

They dance with their stones held high, twirling and dipping and touching fingers; some cast the shadows and then become the light again. The effect is not one of buildings, but of wind; the erratic movements of leaves blowing through city streets, the blooming of tulips in window boxes, a burst of snow around a cathedral.

The footpath at this time is the easiest to cross, highlighted in pink that slowly turns to blue as night settles.

The dusk dwellers tire themselves, and the light fades. Their stones turn dark, and they settle into their beds to sleep once again, covering their section of the city.

The moon rises, and the starlight revelers awaken. They flutter their fingers in the shape of buildings, and looking from faraway, travelers believe in the myth of the city that has a thousand steeples and only three sets of stepping stones.


End file.
